Truly His Type (Cowboys and Angels Book 25)

by Jo Noelle

That gave Rhona an idea about something she could do. Could she write articles to tell Creede about the businesses her friends had? Her first one could be about the tea shop.

  When Rhona returned to work, she wrote her first article and handed it to Mark for approval.

  His eyes moved over it quickly. “It’s perfect, but there might be a problem I didn’t foresee.” Nervousness twisted in her gut as he continued, “This isn’t just for women. I think men will enjoy your focus on our community too. This is a great addition to the Candle.”

  She began typesetting her first article. She finished as the setting sun brightened the front windows.

  She’d already set it in type but took the paper home with her. They wouldn’t print that page for a couple of days. If it needed to change, she could still do that. She read it over and over. Then she asked Eileen, Millie, Isla, and Julianne to read it as well. They all assured her that it was ready for print.

  Tea Shop Treasures

  Everything about Creede’s own English tea shop has a touch of the elegant and gracious. There are new flavors of tea every month. The surprise is the tasty pastries. Would you like a cream puff? It’s like biting into a cloud. Other treats sold today included black bread with a thick layer of raspberry preserves and scones with Devonshire cream. If you’d like something a little more substantial, drop by for high tea from two until six in the afternoon where, in addition to their desserts, they serve a variety of dainty English tea sandwiches, including smoked trout, cucumber, and egg salad. They might have something different on the day you come by, but it’s sure to please. Mention you read this in the Creede Candle, and Regina or Ariadne will freshen your tea with mint syrup gratis.

  When Rhona awoke Saturday morning, she thought she might throw up. The papers had been sent out early that morning. Why did she say yes to writing? She had definitely decided not to leave the print shop all day and then to run home as quickly as she could. She didn’t want to hear people laughing at her or criticizing her article.

  A couple of hours into the morning, she and Mark were changing out the lettering blocks from the flatbed to print an advertisement for a meat packing company when the bell above the door rang. Rhona looked over to see Regina and Ariadne standing there. Her stomach climbed into her throat.

  Ariadne sidestepped the counter and approached Rhona, throwing an arm around her to give her a hug. “Thank you so much. Our door has been swinging all morning with people wanting to try a new blend or coming into the store for their very first time.”

  “If this keeps up, we’ll sell everything we’ve made and have to buy a few desserts from Millie to make it through the day.” Regina stepped up and hugged her, too. “That article was brilliant. We can’t thank you enough.”

  “But we’ll try.” Ariadne presented a plate of cream puffs to her. “And there’s enough for you too, Mr. Carroll, for printing it,” she said, leaning past Rhona’s shoulder.

  “We have to get back,” Regina said.

  “We don’t want to miss our best day ever,” Ariadne added before the door shut.

  The door chime sounded immediately, and Mrs. Dionysia D’Arcy stepped inside. Their gazes locked briefly, and Rhona recognized the same disdain she’d felt at each of their other meetings. A wooden smile quickly replaced the pursed lips from moments ago. Shifting again, the matron smiled sweetly at Mark and said, “I’d like to place an advertisement and have some flyers printed, please.” She handed a card of introduction to him.

  “We’d be glad to help you.” Mark held the card toward Rhona.

  Rhona didn’t want to take it, feeling like he was handing her a poisonous snake. She could see a little fear in his eyes. He really was uncomfortable about all things that dealt with women. At first glance, she had never suspected what a shy man he was.

  “Miss McRae will take your order,” he said. Rhona heard a faint spark of humor.

  “No,” Mrs. D’Arcy said. “I’d rather work with you, the owner, instead of the help. I can be assured of the quality, you understand.” Her smile returned to her face.

  Rhona was relieved not to have to work with the caustic woman. She felt a twinge of guilt that Mark would have to. Oh, well. The expressions on the matron’s face seemed like masks she slipped into place for each new occasion. She didn’t trust Dionysia D’Arcy at all.

  “Miss McRae is our editor for all matters concerning homes and families. I’m confident she’ll give you the service you seek.” Mark turned on his heel and walked away.

  “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll be right with you.” Rhona gestured toward some chairs by a table. Then she turned back around and removed her apron, flashing Mark a knowing look. “I see what you did there,” she whispered as she passed by him to hang up her apron. On her way back toward the table, she asked, “Editor? Do I get a raise?”

  “Yes.” His eyes danced with merriment. “You can have my cream puff.”

  When Rhona sat beside the matchmaker, Mrs. D’Arcy handed her a paper. “I’d like this printed in the newspaper and to have a hundred small flyers made.”

  After discussing design and size, Rhona said, “You can pick the flyers up in three days. The announcement will appear in the paper tomorrow.”

  Rhona took some pleasure in charging her a bit extra for the rush order.

  Mrs. D’Arcy started to walk to the door, but Mark was there first. He held it for her. “Thank you for coming in.”

  Rhona wrote the advertisement and read it over. She wondered if Mark were of a mind for marriage.

  Wanted: Lonely Men with Matrimony in Mind

  Twelve lovely ladies of agreeable disposition seek husbands in Colorado. Mrs. Dionysia D’Arcy of London will take appointments this Wednesday at Hearth and Home for interviews with prospective husbands. Brides are available to only the best sort of men in Creede. Brides have some household goods to bring to the marriage. Photographs available for inspection.

  Chapter 5

  Mark

  Early on Friday morning, Mark rode his horse into town, turning south onto Main Street. He wanted to get a jump on the day’s work and started out at sunrise. It wasn’t really the work that motivated him, but he found it was more pleasant since Rhona had begun working at the Candle. He’d had an idea late last night. If the paper was nearly finished, might he be able to have lunch with Rhona? He’d take her to Graham’s Grub, so she wouldn’t be distracted by her large family or be put to work.

  Mama M hovered in the air in front of him, bringing his attention back to the moment. Her feet were several inches above the ground, and her head was bowed. It was her hands folded across her chest that caught his attention. It looked so much like grief.

  That’s when Mark noticed where she was looking and pulled up hard on his reins. A man lay in the road. He didn’t notice any movement. In anticipation and dread, he jumped from the saddle and ran to the man. The man was either drunk or dead. Mark kneeled beside him and rolled him over as Mama M floated to his side.

  Another angel, who seemed to radiate light as black as the inky night sky, joined Mama M, standing in the air beside her. “Death has come for him,” she said solemnly.

  Death knelt on the other side of the man and looked into his face. “Hey, Pete. Time you come along with me.” There was veneration in the angel’s voice. His silver hair hung behind his neck, tied back with a strap of gold. He wore overalls and thick boots like a miner would. He pushed a tear from his eye. Then he slipped his hands beneath the man, lifting his soul as he stood and cradling it in his arms. “I think you could use a little rest about now, my friend.”

  Black wings unfurled from behind Death. The tips were far above his head, and the tail of them hung on the ground several feet after him. From bended knees, he stamped one foot and blasted into the sky.

  “Who’s that there, Mark?”

  The voice shattered the moment of peace. Mark jolted and spun around. Could KC see the angels too? But Mama M was also gone. Marshal KC’s horse walked slowly up nex
t to him, and Mark could tell KC was asking about the body.

  “Never seen the man before, but he’s dead.” Mark had always thought death was a fearful thing. Seeing the angel’s tenderness and hearing him call Pete by name gave Mark a profound reverence about the event.

  “Just like the others.” KC dismounted and knelt on the other side, where Death had been. “I wonder who he is.”

  Mark had reported about the other three dead bodies in town. Standing beside this man made the events more than just a story—he felt a loss for the man he hadn’t known in life. Although Mark new Pete’s name, this wasn’t the time to offer that information or to come up with an explanation about how he came to that knowledge. “I guess I’ll be reporting about another mysterious death.”

  “There’s not much to tell. We don’t know who they are or what happened.” KC pinned Mark with a stern look. “We don’t need folks getting stirred up when we don’t have any answers about what’s happening.

  Mark considered the changes he’d have to make. “This is going in tomorrow’s paper. Probably front page.” KC began to open his mouth, and Mark added, “Freedom of the press. The community has a right to know that they should watch out for themselves.”

  “You can’t tell me anyone living here thinks Creede’s a safe place,” KC said dryly.

  “No, I can’t say that.” Although he didn’t cinch on a gun belt over his trousers like many in town, he had a pistol in his pocket. He knew exactly the kind of place where he lived. “But I’m printing it just the same.” He’d always looked at the crime in the city with one eye toward the news. This time, his heart was engulfed with worry for Rhona. He had hoped it was over, but it wasn’t.

  KC interrupted his thoughts. “I thought you might say that. Right now, you’re the only suspect.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Here you are. He’s dead. No one else around.” KC pointed at him. “Suspect.”

  Mark stood, and KC followed. “No, you don’t,” Mark said. “You’ve had other dead bodies. I was heading to work and stopped to help someone I thought was a drunk.”

  “Well, you’re not an official suspect—yet.” KC pushed out a deep breath. “I came here because the road boss reported the corpse a while ago. He went on to get the undertaker. I’m glad you’re the one who came upon him next.”

  “Do you have any clues about what’s going on?”

  KC shook his head, a tight expression on his face. The undertaker pulled up next to them and retrieved the body with KC’s and Mark’s help. After he drove off, KC said, “Doc JT is trying to figure out what killed them. Might be best if you don’t get mixed up in this.”

  Mark smiled. “Might be.”

  The men eyed each other, then swung into their saddles and left.

  Mark entered the print shop and roused the fire. He pulled some lettering and began re-setting a new front page for Saturday’s edition. He didn’t know a lot of facts, but he’d give the ones he had, which included his eye-witness account.

  Then he went to the Hearth and Home and ordered up some breakfast. A little family came downstairs to eat just as Rhona brought Mark’s meal in. As the father chased the twin boys, the mother approached an empty table. Mark pulled out her chair for her and tipped his hat to her approaching husband, a squirming boy being carried under each arm.

  Rhona was standing at his seat when he returned. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said with a wink.

  Mark finished eating, and Isla came to take his plate away. A penny sat underneath it. “Is that yours?” he asked.

  “Under your plate? I think not.”

  Rhona was ready to walk to work. He’d taken his time, so he’d be there when she left. “May I escort you?” he asked her.

  “That’s possibly very nice of you.” She had a suspicious look to the set of her beautiful eyes. “How convenient that you came for breakfast again. That’s two days in a row?”

  He extended his arm, and they walked together to the printing shop. He liked the feeling of her hand on his arm and the brush of her skirt against his pant leg.

  They both got right to work. Although Rhona had set the type for the front page the day before, it needed to be reworked for the new story. He pulled more letters that he needed and placed them in a composing stick for the headline, “Four Dead Bodies.”

  Rhona worked on an article about the dresses Vivian Morgan made. After she blocked it, she set in on the counter beside Mark and saw the changes he was making. “There was another one?” she said over Mark’s shoulder. That means another person died today. How did you find out about the new one?”

  “I came to work early this morning and came across him even before KC got there.”

  “I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder.

  He knew he only imagined the warmth of it, but it seemed to travel right to his chest, and his heart grew.

  “Thanks. We still don’t know much—just that it’s the same as the others. Doctor JT is trying to figure it out but hasn’t said.”

  They worked on different projects. He was surprised how quickly the work got done with competent help. A quarter till noon, Mark turned to Rhona. “If you don’t mind putting lunch off awhile, I think we could get the paper nearly done before we eat. I’ll make you a deal. You stay and help a little longer, and I’ll buy you lunch. It would sure be worth it to me.”

  “It’s a deal.” Her smile and eyes brightened. “I wondered if I could go to Hearth and Home for an hour or so on Wednesday to see the interviews for the arranged marriages Mrs. D’Arcy is putting together.”

  “Sounds like a great article for next week.”

  It took another hour to finish up. The last article he typeset was about more counterfeit money being found in town. Creede certainly had its mysteries. Mark had anxiously watched each minute tick by. “I’m ready when you are.”

  She got her coat from the peg and pulled it on. “You didn’t have to offer me lunch to stay and work. You’re the boss. You give me an assignment, and I do it. Perhaps you had other motives.” She smiled and batted her eyes with exaggeration.

  Mark’s chest tightened. Had she figured out what he was up to?

  “Did you really want to finish the paper?” She paused, and Mark’s guilty heart raced. “Or did you just want to take me to lunch?” She rested her hand on his offered arm.

  She knew. He’d confess and see where the chips would fall. He regretted nothing. “You caught me,” he said.

  She winked and laughed. “Not yet.” Then she hugged his arm. “Let’s eat.”

  As they walked down the street, Mark felt six inches taller. He wanted everyone in Creede to see Rhona at his side. So, that’s what it would be like to marry a smart woman. She was always a step or two ahead of you. Marry? Why was he thinking about that? He had to admit the idea was a surprise but a pleasant one. Had she ever thought of him and marriage at the same time? He hoped so.

  They were seated by a window. Mark knew they’d be able to look up East Willow Creek Canyon from there, but he liked the view across the table much better. “Tell me about your home in Scotland.”

  Mark noticed a shadow overtake her expression, but then, as if she pushed it away, she smiled and said, “I grew up in the most beautiful town imaginable—Crawton. It’s small and right on the coast, so many of the men are fishermen. If they don’t do that, they farm.” Her accent grew richer as she continued to speak.

  He liked the way her eyes helped tell the story. Her eyebrows lifted when she said, “Crawton,” and she leaned across the table toward him.

  “There’s a lot of coastline around Scotland. Which part is yours?” He wanted to hear her voice more.

  “A little south of Aberdeen. That’s the thing. It’s truly unremarkable compared to the rest of Scotland. The coast is not so different from the rest of the country with tall, craggy cliffs. We had a little harbor, though, and could launch small boats. We had a castle of sorts—Dunnottar Castle. It’s a lonesome place perched
right on the top of the cliffs with only a narrow neck of land that connects its rocky headland to the country.”

  He loved the sound of her Rs rolling and the quick pace at which her words spilled out. “That’s very interesting.” Their meals were set before them in the lull of the conversation.

  “That’s not the half of it. Everyone round about is proud of its checkered past. Two hundred years ago, the earl lost his wealth because he supported the Jacobite uprising, and the castle fell into disrepair. A hundred years before that, the Scottish Crown Jewels were hidden there to keep them out of Cromwell’s greedy hands. It’s full of grandeur and history, rebellion and defeat—very Scottish. We’re rightfully proud of the old ruins.” She laughed.

  “Why would you leave?”

  Her smile left her face, and she folded her arms around her middle. Mark regretted asking the question.

  “The fishing stopped. The farms went broke, and so did the rest of the town. For a place with a history of eight hundred years, it was spent and dying.”

  There was silence for a long moment. Mark was glad they’d come late to the midday meal because there were few other customers in the room. “Rhona?” Her eyes locked with his. “I’m glad you left.” The honesty he felt at that emotion stunned him. Could she feel it too? He looked for evidence and thought he saw tears pooling in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Mark. I am too.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her finger. “Shall we head back now? That will give me an excuse to hold your arm.”

  “By all means.” He jumped up and pulled her chair back, then strolled with her to the shop.

  It felt right to be with her. There was an ease when they were together—something that surprised him. He hadn’t thought that possible before he hired her. He wanted to learn more about her. Hearing a bit had given him pieces, and he wanted to put them all together.

  The newspaper went out early the next morning. The article about the deaths was short, and Mark left off the locations where the bodies were found in case that was a part of the investigation KC would rather not have told.